


Heatwave

by jarofactonbell



Series: Forecast: Turbulence, then clear skies [3]
Category: Pentagon (Korea Band)
Genre: Bad Parenting, Gen, M/M, Mutual Pining, i want this ship to be a thing, i'm sorry it's generally bad i wanted to write woowon, no jinho and hwitaek sorry friends, shinwon is always late, shinwon is me as a person, shinwon my beautiful child deserves more, support your children's dreams, wooseok being generally whipped, yuno my ship is sailing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-19 17:55:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11903091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jarofactonbell/pseuds/jarofactonbell
Summary: Wooseok is like a cute animal. Not a little cuddly one, but a huge-ass one that has really contrasting facial features on a too developed body. Like a baby on steroids and calcium overdose. Shinwon wants to wrap metres of fluffy doona around this baby and carry him home so his mum and him can coddle Wooseok. He extends a hand experimentally to the boy, inching closer to his cheek.Wooseok stares, but doesn’t move away. That’s not exactly a no.He skims the defined jawline and places his palm gingerly on Wooseok’s left cheek. Neither of them move in case the universe hates Shinwon or something and he’ll move in the child’s space and they might hug-The bus pulls to the curb and beeps at them. He jumps and drops his hand to Wooseok’s shoulder. The boy stares at the rest of his arm to his shoulder and touches his elbow gingerly.





	1. Humid

**Author's Note:**

> And the series continues. I'm sorry it's long and tiring to read, but I ship Wooseok and Shinwon somehow and I can see it?? Please be kind and tell me what you think. It's a lot of fun to write Pentagon in my native crib Down-Under-Straya, so if you're a little bit confused then hit me up.
> 
> Mutually whipped boyfriends just make me emo. Please understand.

Screw this world and everything that it stands for.

Shinwon can’t help the barely contained scream of ‘I WAS LITERALLY A METRE AWAY FROM THE DOOR!’ A guy walking his dog on the other side of the street turns to his direction. There is probably some light to medium judgement happening from owner or dog. He doesn’t care. The driver saw him. They made angry eye contact, at least on Shinwon’s part. Shinwon had done a very interpretative dance that went along the lines of ‘Open the door.’ The driver just kept driving. He had chased after it, so sure of being able to make it before the next stop. But just as all the luck he used up last night in Mario Kart, he tripped. Shinwon missed bodily slamming onto the back windows of the bus but in missing that he missed the bus. A girl gave him a sympathetic look from behind the window. Shinwon wants to cry.

The next bus doesn’t come until ten more minutes. By the time that he gets on the bus, his class would’ve already started and his professor would give him the same look over his fake glasses - he’s sure it’s for aesthetics, not for real myopia, they don’t even have lens. Shinwon would begin his walk of shame up the seats and hide as eyes of various peoples mock him. But he’s tall and there would always be someone screaming at him to ‘move away you tall freak!’ as they scribble furiously onto their notebooks.

It’s not like the PowerPoint isn’t available through the learning portal. People in his morning classes just have no more tolerance for Shinwon and his streaks of never being on time. For anything. _Literally_.

Standing there on the lone bus stop, this issue presents itself as nothing less than drastic. All Shinwon’s sole absences can probably add up to like a month’s worth of days taken off. He’s trying very _very_ hard to not become a horrible person in university, but the late thing has never gone away. _Like at all._

Maybe the world hates him or something. Or he’s just useless at being on time.

He can hear the voice of his friend Yan An nagging him to leave earlier ‘because you will always be late to something, why not leave early?’

“Don’t I have a car?” He asks the scratched glass at the stop. He remembers something about a broken headlight. Just a sole light.

“Wait no I crashed into a car. On a red light. Because I missed the green light. Slammed onto the car in front of me and broke his taillights. Broke my headlights.  It’s being serviced. Oops.”

He doesn’t know if inanimate objects can judge, but the glass is doing an excellent job of it. He can feel judgement just dripping off the indifferent transparency of the material. Damn glass and their vague judgemental expressions.

The bus driver asks no questions when Shinwon steps on the bus. He doesn’t feel the need to justify why he’s pointing fingers at an empty bus stop in the middle of a highway like he’s engaged in an actual conversation with a sentient being. He’s done weirder things.

The professor just finished the roll when he runs in the lecture hall. There is no question asked, just a single grunt as the professor acknowledges his presence and ticks him present on the online roll. Shinwon climbs the stairs two at a time, bag flapping dangerously on his legs as he makes his narrow escape from the mocking eyes of his classmates.

“Mate. Friend. Bro,” Yuto shifts aside, “you’re like 5 minutes late. _For once in your life_.”

“I don’t need your sarcastic input right now. Please shut up if your opinions are not nice enough for my delicate ears,” he moves to shift through things thrown haphazardly into his bag last minute. Again. “How much did I miss?”

“The next in-class test,” Shinwon has a despairing face on. “It’s on the second half of the lesson, just be late for the first. Everything on the lectures he gave plus reading materials. Anything you want clarifications with, he’s fine with emails or before 7am or 4pm on weekdays. The test is in like, ten days. Study well.”

“Who even say study well anymore? It’s ‘cram effectively’ or ‘study effectively’. Jesus Adachi, get a grip. You’re better than this. You read Milton.”

Yuto throws a lolly wrapper at him.

∞

The door slams shut. Shinwon lets out a creative curse. It’s not in English, _thank God_. What would the delicate baristas at his work have to say about how _there are children here_ and _we are in a professional environment be polite._

The only children present are Yan An and Hyunggu, who he knows for all the crippling debts in his student, swear every time something mildly inconvenient happen. He shuffles the books careening off to one side against the glass door and swallows the cry threatening to bubble up to his mouth.

Hyunggu tries to swing open the door but Shinwon is in the way, again. The kid looks more than remotely small and remorseful. He runs somewhere off to the side and Shinwon hears the supply door open, Hyunggu running out to alleviate Shinwon’s book burden.

Screw Hongseok and his bibliophile self.

“I’m so sorry, the door just closed and I didn’t see you behind me are you okay are your wrists okay I’m so sor -”

He waves it aside. No point in hating sincere children. He has work and then catching the _damned bus_ home to study for the test. One slammed door into his face doesn’t necessarily render him into hysterical tears. Maybe a bit but not a lot. Shinwon stacks the books on one of the coffee tables and holds Hyunggu at arm’s length, looking into the kid’s eyes.

“Stop. I don’t hate you. No, Hyunggu, seriously you’re shaking on me. It’s fine, it happens to me all the time. It’s honestly nothing don’t shake anymore child. You don’t have eyes on the back of your head Hyunggu, don’t be sad, it’s okay.”

At some point he starts patting Hyunggu’s hair and ears, but the guy is like a beautiful breed of puppy and human child. Shinwon can’t resist. Petting cute things makes him feel like his life isn’t literally falling apart.

“Ah my books! Thanks Shinwonnie!” Hongseok enters flamboyantly like the git he is and Shinwon hisses, hands clutching Hyunggu close to protect him from the influence of Hongseok. Charming good-looking men are the true dangers of society. Or just good-looking people in general.

Maybe it’s just Hongseok, but Yuto exists too and that one is also a danger. Shinwon is sure the Japanese kid is here on a full scholarship by simply submitting his profile photo for university application. The next day he got a call and he’s on a plane to Melbourne to study for free. Because his face is pretty.

“Yeah yeah I did. Go away. Don’t come near me,” he makes a whole show of kicking Hongseok away who blows him a loud kiss and cackles his way into the kitchen. Hyunggu squirms out of his grip, apologises again and puts on his apron. Shinwon is alone and too free. He turns to the supply room to put on his uniform.

“Why did God make me ugly,” he asks the coat hooks. Hyojong, another barista, lifts an eyebrow and pats his shoulder blades briefly. “I’m serious Hyojongie. Listen to my woes.”

“Alright then,” the blonde chews back a reply for the sake of replying.

“I need to be beautiful,” he cries to the wall. The bell atop the doorway chimes as customers step inside the café. He doesn’t want to serve first. Hyojong gives him a look as he stares at the apron in conflict, wanting to actually cry.

“I’ll go if you pay for my brownie,” the blonde boy drawls. Shinwon snaps up his head, eyes bright.

“I’ll buy you all the brownies you want,” he gushes and tries to tackle his co-worker into a hug. “Thank you so much!”

“Just come out in ten minutes.”

 

“There was a really pretty boy,” Yan An tells him as they mop down coffee splats on the tables near the window. Shinwon can’t hear him, head plotting the route he needs to cut to make the bus that _comes every 40 minutes now because it hates him_. He shakes his head as Yan An punches his shoulder.

“You’re doing great honey,” he informs Yan An who tries to swipe his legs. “Wait, Yuto is here to flirt with Hyunggu, let me witness this.”

Yuto stands behind the counter, all 184 cm of him amazingly cooperating to fold elegantly while leaning onto a wooden surface. Hyunggu beams from behind the counter and leans a bit forward as he asks for Yuto’s order.

“I’ll have the caramel macchiato and a mocha. Is Friday good to head out?” Yuto whips out his wallet as he comments conversationally. Yan An chokes. Shinwon is winning as he discreetly takes photos of this moment. Hongseok would most likely review his Snapchat story for the next three nights as the progression of Yuno, this beautiful contrasting ship, sails on the sea of love.

Hyunggu is busy punching numbers to notice the last thing the Japanese said.

“That’ll be $10.75. Friday is clear and sort of warm,” he answers absent-mindedly. “Who are you taking out?”

“You.”

Three boys choke as Yuto casually slides the money over the counter. “I’d get Shinwon to give you my number but he’s bad at timing, so I’ll wait until the end of your shift instead. Is that okay with you?”

_“When did the motherfucker become so smooth?”_ He mouths to Yan An who slaps his arm repeatedly as he squeals without sound.

Hyunggu nods so hard Shinwon is sure his head is going to roll off into the direction of no return. It’s so pure. He wants to frame all of it.

“Here’s your coffee.”

“Here’s my number.”

“Oh, yes, um, okay, I’ll just, come back, yeah.”

Hyunggu escapes through the supply room, ears red. Yuto is still standing at the counter, his back to them. But Shinwon knows the prick. He’s probably blushing and high-key _dying_. Yan An looks ready to plan their wedding, clutching the tea towel to his chest.

Hongseok is going to cry when he sees all of this.

“Why is Hyunggu – never mind don’t explain,” Hyojong dismisses as he eyes Yuto staggering off to the side, blushing red enough to rival Hongseok’s red velvet cakes. “Shinwon, if you want to leave now in case, I dunno, the light falls and makes a sinkhole on the asphalt and you can’t get to your bus, go. Leave. _Bon voyage_ ,” Hyojong waves his tea towel at him like he’s wishing farewell to a successful quest. Shinwon nearly chokes himself with the strings of the apron in his scramble to take it off, his messenger bag already in Yan An’s hand. He slides the money across to Hyojong whose eyes widen and as he bursts through the door he can hear ‘I was joking why the hell are you paying me?’

“I’ll just get it back tomorrow,” he tells himself. It’s like _five dollars._ He’s not _that_ broke.

He cuts three corners, jumps three holes and slams into three houses four times before he can see the bus stop, without a bus in sight. Which could mean he either just missed it, _again_ , or he’s early.

Only way to check is to interrogate the guy waiting there.

“Excuse me, sorry, hi, have you waited long?” He doesn’t bother to hide the breathiness of his voice and the guy takes out an earphone, blinking.

“Yeah, a bit, but the next one comes in ten minutes,” he squints, “so you don’t have to wait long.”

Shinwon never looks happier in his life. Except when he got that ATAR to get into Melbourne.

The guy stares at him for a bit, mouth a bit open, blinking. Shinwon doesn’t care if this is another tick in his exponential tally of people who find him concerning. Not like he’ll see this kid again.

“You going back to Melbourne uni?” He asks. The guy nods, now moving the other earphone out of his ear and rolling it back. The bus must be coming soon.

“What degree you doing?” he rattles off, adding quickly, “if you don’t mind me asking.”

The guy swallows. “Music.”

“Oh,” he’s very impressed. He knows two guys who are in music in his group of friends because _it’s that hard_ to get into. These music kids are rare because it’s such a demanding subject. Like ten people get in every year. “So smart.”

The guy shrugs, a bit shy, “I work hard.”

“More than hard, buddy. My two friends broke their vocal throats in the last month and live off energy drinks for a fortnight straight to complete like a piece of homework. Third year life is hard don’t let yourself get to that state.”

“I’m only a first year,” the guy intercepts.

Shinwon moves his eyes up to meet the kid’s eyes. Shinwon is tall. Shinwon is 184 cm tall. This one has at least 5 cm on him.

“How the heck are you taller than me? I’m like 6 feet. How tall are you?” He gesticulates and misses hitting the poor lad on the nose. The boy shifts to one side easily.

“I’m six foot two. Last I checked.”

“Do you like, drink milk four times a day and snort pure calcium for dinner?” He gives the boy a once-over because the kid’s legs go on _forever_. There’s more leg than there is body.

“Not really. I was just born this way,” the kid shrugs, looks at his eyes. He has really pretty eyes. Like a deer. A big one. The biggest megafauna he ever come across.

“Oh well maybe the world is unfair. I’m a tall freak and an ugly one. Woe be I,” he cries to no one. Why can’t he be taller at least?

“You’re pretty though. You have a really sharp jaw line.”

_I’m sorry._

_What. Did. You. Say._

“What.”

The kid squirms, avoids his eyes.

“Do you like, need glasses,” he offers.

“You’re a bit harsh on yourself. Objectively speaking you’re very good-looking. Your shoulders are like fucking wide. And your facial structures are mint,” he admits to the asphalt, but it’s at Shinwon. He feels lightheaded. There is a pretty boy, at a bus stop he’s not late to, praising his looks. Good things come in threes.

“You’re not bad yourself. Thanks kid,” he nudges his foot to the kid’s shin. “Whatcha called?”

“Jung Woo - wait, no, first name first,” there is a bit of mumbling as the kid struggles to collect his name. As a fellow southeast Asian Shinwon could relate. “Wooseok Jung.”

“Jung Wooseok, right. I’m Ko Shinwon,” he says in Korean, “you speak the mother tongue, right?”

“I understand it, but can’t speak it much,” Wooseok answers in English, “you can talk to me in Korean if that’s comfortable for you,” he quickly amends.

After a beat of debating he’s like, “Shinwon-hyung.”

Shinwon had ascended into a higher realm. He’s gone. You can’t find him somewhere else.

“My dongsaeng,” he fake-cries as he lies a solemn hand on Wooseok’s arm, “my beautiful junior.”

Wooseok, differently to his imagination, does not run away screaming or begin an exorcism ceremony on him. He just blushes like the beautiful human being he is, eyes cast down.

“Okay hyung,” the child tells him meekly. Bless his soul.

“How did we never meet? I take this bus every single day.”

Wooseok shuffles his feet and shrugs. “I missed my usual bus today because I was asking a hyung for a question in physics.”

“Such a hardworking child. Your parents must be so proud of you,” Shinwon is fake tearing up and Wooseok’s face falls a little. Shinwon immediately looks into the kid’s eyes in alarm, moving closer to like put a consoling arm around those wide-as-Pacific shoulders-

Consoling. Being a good hyung. Focus Ko Shinwon you must be a good bean. No hitting on children at bus stops.

“Parents didn’t really like me going into music. Said it’s a waste of time. I don’t really talk much to my dad ever since I moved into the residential college and sorta live half-time at a hyung’s place. It’s rocky.”

Wooseok is like a cute animal. Not a little cuddly one, but a huge-ass one that has really contrasting facial features on a too developed body. Like a baby on steroids and calcium overdose. Shinwon wants to wrap metres of fluffy doona around this baby and carry him home so his mum and him can coddle Wooseok. He extends a hand experimentally to the boy, inching closer to his cheek.

Wooseok stares, but doesn’t move away. That’s not exactly a no.

He skims the defined jawline and places his palm gingerly on Wooseok’s left cheek. Neither of them move in case the universe hates Shinwon or something and he’ll move in the child’s space and they might hug-

The bus pulls to the curb and beeps at them. He jumps and drops his hand to Wooseok’s shoulder. The boy stares at the rest of his arm to his shoulder and touches his elbow gingerly.

“Hyung, let’s go out for coffee someday.”

“I’m sorry _what?”_

Wooseok looks straight into his eyes. “Coffee. Me and you. I’ll pay.”

“The fuck you spouting Jung Wooseok, you barely know me – “

“Hyung. I want to. You’re pretty and hot and I’m weak. Let me wine and dine you,” Wooseok’s eyes get bigger.

“Are you getting on or not?” The driver spazzes behind the wheel. Shinwon pulls Wooseok by the hand onto the bus and onto a seat, never once letting go.

“On one condition,” he turns to the boy who’s disowned by his parents and doing a subject ten kids in all of Victoria get in, “you come home for dinner with me tonight and my mum will feed you.”

“Does she know?” Wooseok asks, eyes darting wildly. “Hyung you don’t have to it’s fine I eat.”

“Shut up I’m bringing you home, she’ll probably force-feed you. I’m fulfilling her maternal instincts. Let me be a good hyung and a decent date,” he waves the concern aside, absolutely doesn’t acknowledge the date part. Wooseok drops his head onto Shinwon’s shoulder suddenly and mumbles into his collarbones. He tries hard not to squeal and coo at this on a bus which has beef with him since the start of last year. He doesn’t want to jinx it.

“What?” He turns his ear to listen to the mumbling.

“You’re already the best date.”

Shinwon does let out a little squeal. Wooseok groans a bit and burrows deeper into his shoulder.

 

“But I’m still taking you out on that coffee date.”

“Okay chill kid I ain’t going nowhere.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I expected diamonds in the future Jung Wooseok. Twenty-four carats and no less. I don’t want just one ring. I want ten. They better be thickass bands."
> 
> “Everything for you,” Wooseok breathes, staring at Shinwon like he’s the most wonderful thing on the planet. “Even the stars themselves.”
> 
> “You need to stop. I’m going to die from how sappy that was.”
> 
> “Take me for what I am,” Wooseok suddenly sings, “coz I’ll never change. All my colours for you.”
> 
> Shinwon throws a dish cloth at his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally is just the epilogue. More soft Woowon coming your way.

“Eat more,” his mother insists. “No date of Shinwonnie is going hungry under my roof.”

“Eomma, honestly, stop,” he groans. Wooseok just grins over his bowl of curry and keeps eating. “You don’t have to keep eating Seok-ah, she’s putting on her Mum Voice.”

“It’s okay. I haven’t had homemade food in a while,” the kid concedes. Shinwon drops a spoon.

“Keep eating,” he pushes the bowl of soup to Wooseok. “I’ll cook for you next time we have a house date.”

“I’m glad you’re optimistic we’ll have another date after the coffee one.”

“Don’t be stupid. Your hyungie can cook well. I’m amazing boyfriend material. I am a whole husband,” he squares up his shoulders. “Someone should just marry me already.”

“When I become a successful rapper with a second album, then I’ll propose.”

Shinwon trips over his own feet. Wooseok is staring at him. Intently.

“Promise? Pinky promise?” He returns the look.

Wooseok turns to pull out something from his bag. There is a bracelet that he pulls out precariously from inside it.

“Promise bracelet?”

“I expected diamonds in the future Jung Wooseok. Twenty-four carats and no less. I don’t want just one ring. I want ten. They better be thickass bands."

“Everything for you,” Wooseok breathes, staring at Shinwon like he’s the most wonderful thing on the planet. “Even the stars themselves.”

“You need to stop. I’m going to die from how sappy that was.”

“Take me for what I am,” Wooseok suddenly sings, “coz I’ll never change. All my colours for you.”

Shinwon throws a dish cloth at his head.

He wears the bracelet to bed and vows to keep it on until his dying day. Until the rings arrive of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what happens when you're too deep inside a fandom and all you do is cry and write bad fanfiction about members.
> 
> Comments and kudos are virtual food that keep me alive.

**Author's Note:**

> Much love from me. I love all you readers.


End file.
